


you'll wake up some time tomorrow and forget to even care

by nosecoffee



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1960's-1970's time period, Angst, Bittersweet, Everyone's a girl, F/F, Gender Changes, Letters, News Reporter AU, Vietnam War AU, except Washington, friends with benifits arrangement, like once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: 1964They'd known each other long enough to know when one or the other is concocting a terrible plan.Aaron knows, the day that Alex shows up at the door half an hour late, that Alex's mind is preoccupied. Or the Vietnam War AU that nobody asked for





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Pretty Funny' from Dogfight the Musical

1964

They'd known each other long enough to know when one or the other is concocting a terrible plan.

Aaron knows, the day that Alex shows up at the door half an hour late, that Alex's mind is preoccupied.

"What?" She asks, eventually, turning from the pegs.

Alex looks up, startled. "Hm? I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to. You're thinking so loud that I'm ready to shoot myself." Aaron deadpans.

Alex's face brightens. "You're right. I've been thinking really hard about this whole war thing really hard, and it came to me last night."

"What came to you?" Aaron puts her hands on her hips, photo solution staining the hips of her trousers. That's alright, Mulligan will get her some new ones, half off. Mulligan likes her because she's one of the few ladies who came in looking for trousers rather than dresses.

"The war, Aaron." Alex exclaims, excitedly, crossing the room. "We should sign up!"

"Sign up?" Aaron echoes, incredulously. "You're insane. They'd never take us."

"They would, Aaron! They're so desperate, they started drafting!"

"No, enough. That's crazy and you know it." Aaron says, turning back.  
Alex's wide, dark eyes look absolutely deluded in the red light of the dark room. There's no way what she's saying could ever work.

Besides, Aaron's parents would come down from heaven and whoop her ass if they knew what Alex was proposing. If she agreed.

"That's fine, Aaron." Alex says, but her voice is calmer, quieter now. Aaron busies herself with photograph in the photo solution. "If you don't want to do it, I won't pressure you, but you can't stop me."

Aaron tenses at the sudden hand on her shoulder. Her knuckles go white as her hands tighten around the edge of the basin. She will not turn around. She will not agree. She will not-

"Do you know what it would do to me if you died?" She says instead of trying to dissuade her.

"What?" Alex's voice hold's a tone of surprise and Aaron curses herself. She's really a terrible friend. "You mean-?"

"You're practically my only friend, Alex." She whispers. The photo started to darken. "You're almost all I have left. If I lose you..." Aaron shakes her head and releases the basin. "Look, go to the war if you want, I can't stop you, but know that I'm not happy with it."

"Aaron..."

~

Alex signs up for the war effort. Gets drafted out a month later.

Aaron pretends that she doesn't care when a new lady gets placed in the dark room with her at work.

Reads Alex's occasional letters before bed.

She's okay.

She's good.

~

She's good until the newspaper tells her that she's going to Vietnam for some pictures. It's for a story, meant to reassure people.

Get some good pictures, Aaron's boss tells her, happy pictures.

She has free reign just get him at least three good, patriotic pictures.  
Then she can go home.

Sally doesn't even look surprised when Aaron tells her.

"It's a good chance, Aaron. See what your little lady friend's always talking about."

"Hamilton?"

"That's the one."

"I don't even know where she's posted."

"That's fine. And hey, you'll be going somewhere where people won't give you funny looks for wearing pants."

"Hardy har."

~

Aaron and a couple of reporters get shipped out to a camp in late September.

They're welcomed there by the head of the camp - George something, Aaron wasn't paying much attention because this was all nothing like she'd expected - and get a short briefing on the runnings of the camp.

George - Waterson? Winterbottom? - tells her three male reporter colleagues that they've set up a tent for them. And then he turns to Aaron.

"And you are?"

"Aaron Burr. I'm the photographer." She extends her hand across the desk and he shakes it evenly, giving her a smile.

"You'll be rooming with three of our soldiers. Tent 62. They'll treat you well I hope." George - Washington, that's it! - turns back to address all four of them. "And how long should we expect you to stay?"

"Just a few weeks," Aaron replies. We just need to get some personal stories and some nice photos."

"You understand that this is a war, Miss Burr?" Washington asks, a small frown gracing his lips.

Aaron feels blood rush to her cheeks. She sits up straighter, never one to be made fun off. "I am very aware of that, Mr. Washington. I was repeating what we'd been told. Do I look like an idiot?"

Washington sits back, a vaguely insulted look on his face.

Aaron breathes in deeply and stoops to pick up her suitcases. "Excuse me."

She exits the tent quickly only to realise that she has no idea where tent 62 was.

"Shit," Aaron swears, and hurries to right. There are signs over the doors to tents and she follows them until it gets to 40 and ends abruptly at a row of porta-loos. "Crap!"

She drops her suitcases and clenches her fists. She's so embarrassed.

And lost.

And confused.

GOD.

"Hey." Says a voice. Aaron turns and wipes her eyes - she won't let anybody see her cry; she's much too proud for that - to see a tall girl with curly hair pulled into a neat bun.

"Are you okay?" She asks. She has a prominent European accent - French, Aaron thinks - but she speaks fast enough to be fluent in English.

"Yeah, yeah." Aaron hurried let says, wiping her eyes again. "I'm fine. I just can't find my room."

"You just enlisted?" The girl asks. She's wearing uniform, olive green trousers and a white singlet, a long sleeved jacket tied around her waist. It's not hot enough to constitute that kind of clothing but weather may be weird in Europe.

Aaron doesn't know. She's never been there.

"No. I'm, uh, I'm a photographer. With a news paper."

The girl cocks her head to the side. "What are you doing here?"

Before Aaron can answer somebody shouts, "Laf! C'mon! Charlie Lee said they have salmon fillets for lunch and if you're slow, I'm gonna eat yours!" This voice is very American, vaguely southern, and female.

The girl Aaron's talking to turns and shouts back, "I will be a minute, mon amie!" Definitely French, then. She turns back to Aaron. "Where is your room? I can show you, oui?"

Someone walks up and slings an arm around the girl's - Laf's? - neck. Her hair too is tied back and her jacket's unbuttoned, exposing the front of her singlet. It has little specks of blood on it.

Her face is covered in freckles.

"Who's this, French Fry?" The new girl asks.

"This is - wait, I never got your name." Laf looks vaguely distressed.

"It's-"

"Guys, salmon, we're missing SALMON-" a new voice cuts in and then suddenly all Aaron can see is dark brown hair, in her eyes, in her mouth. She chokes on it, and stumbles back.

The person hugging her doesn't let up.

The smell is familiar.

"Aaron!" The voice is unmistakable. "What are you doing here?" Alex pulls back, her hands on Aaron's shoulders and gives her a toothy look.

Aaron stares. Alex cut her hair.

"You know the little photographer?" Laf asks.

"She's my friend from New York, we used to be coworkers." Alex addresses the two other women.

"You were a photographer?"

"She wasn't that good." Aaron mumbles and they laugh.

Alex nudges her arm. "Aaron was the raw talent of the team."

Aaron rolls her eyes. "I didn't get your names?"

The French girl elbows the other girl in the ribs which makes her choke. "I'm Lafayette. That's Laurens. And you've already met little Alex."

Laurens groans and crumples. Alex laughs and helps her up. "D'you want to have lunch with us? I'm sure if they have any left they'll give you a salmon fillet, but we'll have to hurry."

Aaron nods and picks up one suitcase. Lafayette picks up the other.

"Where are you rooming, anyway."

"Tent 62."

"Hey, that's our tent! What luck!"

~

Aaron learns a lot in the next six hours.

Learns that Alex is one of Washington's favourites.

Learns that Laurens is a nurse here, and that she and Lafayette unashamedly advertise their relationship.

Learns that the salmon is really good.

Learns that she really should've kissed Alex before she left New York.

Learns that she was missing a lot.

Learns a lot about how thin the walls of the tent are and how hard she needs to bite her hand.

~

"They're gonna send us into combat soon." Alex whispers.

Aaron looks up at her. Closes her notebook. "Really?"

Alex's breath is full of laughter. "Yeah." She smiles wide.

"That's great." Aaron says softly. It's not, but it's what Alex wants. To prove herself.

"Yeah." Alex agrees. She's staring at the roof of the tent. Arms folded behind her head. She looks happy.

Aaron leans her chin on the back of her folded wrists. Alex's sheet goes to the backs of her knees when Aaron swings her feet.

"The boss said if I brought him a decent little side story he'd publish it. Might even let me start reporting." Aaron murmurs.

Alex turns onto her side and puts her hand on Aaron's bare shoulder blade. "Really?" She asks.

Aaron nods, feeling a smile - the one she specifically uses for Sally and Alex; the real one - spreads across her lips. Alex hugs her, making happy noises.

"I'm so proud of you! That's so great!"

"Yeah, yeah." Aaron agrees pulling back and thumbing the edge of the sheet. "Just don't make me write your obituary."

Alex nods, and then leans in and kisses her cheek.

~

She gets some good pictures, and writes a story on the group of women enlisted to this camp, which was a whopping twelve, not including nurses and doctors.

Alex and her friends are sad to see her go, but they promise to write.

Aaron gets onto the plane home giddy.

~

Her story gets published. Her boss gives her a look that might be impressed if she looked at it from a certain angle.

She becomes a published, professional reporter.

Alex, Laf, and Laurens are terribly supportive when she writes and tells them.

~

1966

And then the letters stop.

~

1970

Aaron doesn't frequent Mulligan's much anymore, but she doesn't think it bothers Mulligan.

She wanders in on one of her rare days off, rummaging through her purse to see if she has enough for a new pair of trousers, when she hears a voice she hasn't heard in a few years now.

Aaron looks up to find a certain French woman leaning on the counter and chatting away to Mulligan.

She's wearing a dress now, plain blue.

Aaron stops dead, mouth agape.

Mulligan notices her first. "Hey, Burr! It's been a while!"

Lafayette turns and her face lights up. "Little Aaron! Mon amie!" She races across the shop and catches Aaron up in a tight hug.

When she pulls away, she gives Aaron a cursory look, surveying her. "It has been ages. How are you?"

Aaron shakes off her stupor. "I'm good. When did you get back?"

"I was, uh, how you say? Let go. Did enough fighting, they said."

Aaron punches her in the arm. "You stopped writing!"

At that, Lafayette's expression goes flat. "We were in enemy territory. We did not have much chance to sit down and write you a letter." She sighs. "Laurens got caught in a bomb explosion. Lots of shrapnel. Alex was distraught. They didn't know if she'd make it and sent her to London for treatment. She's alive, but her mobility is less than impressive now."

Aaron covers her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry."

"It is okay." Lafayette assures her.

"What about Alex?" Aaron inquires, trying to be casual.

Lafayette rolls her eyes, a little rueful smile on her lips. "Still fighting. Got promoted."

"Really?" Aaron can imagine that she's happy.

"Yes."

"Gosh. Well, it's what she wanted."

"It is."

~

1975

The war's ended and Aaron hasn't seen or heard from Alex for nine years.

She's almost ready to give up when they meet in the park.

Aaron's ready to throw herself into Alex's arms, except that Alex's arms are full of a shorter, long haired woman.

Aaron steps aside, and hopes that Alex doesn't see her.

Her hair is still cut short. It still looks good.

Aaron's glad that she found somebody.

She tells herself that, anyway.

She's okay.

She's good.

  
Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoyed. If so, please feel free to leave a comment and a kudos and track me down on Tumblr @nose-coffee. I do take prompts and as I'm currently on holiday, will do my best to post them quickly. Again, thank you!


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